


Mia's Naked Butt

by NickelModelTales



Category: Original Work
Genre: Beach Sex, Beaches, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hospitals, Hypnotism, Light Bondage, Obsession, Porn With Plot, Stalking, Teenagers, ass worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 12:03:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17446619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NickelModelTales/pseuds/NickelModelTales
Summary: A powerful hospital administrator develops an unhealthy obsession with a sexy teenager.  When he meets a corrupt hypnotist, the administrator hatches a scheme to see the teenager in the nude.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another attempt to write in the third person, as per a reader request. ...also, apologies for the crudest of titles...

**_Orlando, 1983_ **

Vincente Lopez took his bourbon out onto the third-floor balcony.  The sun was setting over Winter Park, and he could see the rich golden light dancing across Lake Osceola.  A few lazy sailboats were drifting through the water.  He could hear teenagers laughing in the distance.

“Vinny!” Sofia’s voice shouted at him from deep within the house.  “Vinny, you stop ignoring me!”

Vincente slowly closed his eyes in anger.  Sofia, his wife, had an instinct for when how to best disrupt his thoughts.  He scowled and sipped the bourbon.

His fat wife fell back to complaining with Martina and Gabriela, his two spoiled daughters.  At 31 and 28, each of the girls should have married long ago.  Yet year after year, they found excuses to live in the house and spend their momma’s money.  Which they were good at doing.

Another sip of bourbon.  Not for the last time, Vincente watched the sailboats and wondered what would happen if he were to buy a boat of his own, put it in the Gulf of Mexico, and never look back.  He’d cruise down the Mexican coast, stopping by Tampico, Heroica Veracruz, Ciudad del Carmen, and beyond.  Maybe he’d find a poor, well-endowed girl.  She would be dazzled by his yacht.  They’d cast off together.  She’d sit up on deck, topless or maybe even in the nude, and laugh as the wind danced in her hair.  They’d sail in the day and screw all night long…

Absently, the fifty-seven-year-old rubbed a hand over his large, prominent belly.  Every year it was rounder.  _No sweet little_ niña _is going to want this old bulk,_ he told himself wistfully.  _Not unless she charges by the hour._

A burst of giggles below interrupted Vincente’s thoughts.  Frowning, he squinted down toward the nearby beach, where a truckload of teenagers were beginning to load up their gear.

They were a tanned and skinny lot, each muscle-packed, and wearing very little.  The boys were dressed in Bermuda swim trunks, the fashion of this year’s season.  Vincente could see their slim waists and molded chests, and for a moment, he envied their natural vitality.  But it was the girls who caught his eye.

The girls were skinny too, clad in one-piece bathing suits which make them sleek.  They all had long, black hair, and bronzed skin.  The summer season was starting in a few weeks!  That meant these girls were probably Mexican or Latino.  Seasonal workers.  They had nice legs.

One of the girls shouted to the last teenager in the water:  “Mia!  Com’on, girl!”

The glass of bourbon froze on its journey to Vincent’s lips.  Emerging from the water was the curviest, must luscious woman he had ever seen.  Water flowed down a perfect set of shoulders, lovingly over two round breasts, down a smooth, compact tummy, across two swaying hips, and then down long, long, long legs.  This girl’s skin was a perfect cream, like rich coffee with too much milk.  All of this was tucked into a barely-there black string bikini, which struggled to contain the girl’s jiggling wonders.  Perfection.  Absolute perfection.

The young women had short, cropped black hair.  As she shook her head, water sprayed in all directions.  Although that hair now jutted in all directions, it still looked hip and sexy.

The girl smiled.   Her teeth were white and her eyes big and gorgeous.  Vincente stared openly.

“Mia, girl, com’on!” the teens coaxed, throwing their belongings into the truck.

But Mia was in no hurry.  She plucked a beach towel from a chair and turned to face the water.  As she did, she shifted her weight, and Vincente found himself mesmerized by her ass.

Oh, if this girl’s body was sculpted by the angels, then her ass was blessed by God Himself.  Two perfectly-formed buttocks, each round and luscious, pressed against flimsy black Nylon.  While Mia dried herself off, Vincente was captivated as they flexed and relaxed.  The girl bent over to pad off her dripping legs, and the tops of each buttock peaked out from the bikini bottom.

Vincente realized he was leaning over the balcony railing, straining to see as much as he could.

“Mia!” the teens shouted, piling into the truck.

“ _Dios mío,_ you guys!” Mia laughed back.  “I’m coming!”

Her voice was positively musical.

The girl took one last second to dry her hair, shaking that tush one last time.  Then she clamored into the truck’s bed, pulling on a sweatshirt as she settled in among her friends.  The truck engine roared to life, and then sped off and out of sight.

Vincente watched until not even the cloud of dust left behind could be seen.

******

Ignoring Sofia’s indignation, Vincente invented an excuse to leave the house immediately.  He was obviously lying – there is no such thing as a hospital administrative emergency at seven-thirty in the evening – but he did not care.  He had to get out.

Within five minutes, he was on the beach, at the very spot where Mia and her friends had parked their old truck.  Vincente searched the sands carefully, foolishly hoping to find… what?  Some clue, some discarded personal item which might lead him to Mia again?  It was a hopeless cause, yet Vincente combed the beaches nonetheless.

He couldn’t stop thinking about that sexy teen.  Of her water-coated body.  And especially, of her ass.  Oh, that ass.  He’d never seen another ass like it.

Vincente had always been a butt man.  In his youth, he’d first wanted to date Sofia because she had a nice seat, cushy and round.  But that was years ago.

When the Orlando summers came, Vincente found himself staring at other women’s posteriors, especially the young volleyball players and suntanners.  He **_loved_** women’s asses.  Deep within the cellar, he had stacks of old dirty magazines, all carefully selected and preserved because they had the best naked butts within their covers.

But Mia…  Wow.  In all his forty-some years of admiring women’s tushes, **_never_** had he seen a butt like Mia’s.  Hers was round yet defined, bouncy yet muscular, sexy yet sleek.  Even though he’d only watched that butt for a mere seconds, and from over a hundred yards off, Vincente was in love.  That butt lingered in his mind, taunting him.

A thought crystalized in Vincente’s head.  _Imagine how that ass would look naked!_ he thought.

The very question made his dick hard.

******

The Pink Lady was Orlando’s premiere strip club, tucked away in the city’s underbelly.  Far enough away from the Disney parks as to not offend the family-oriented crowds, but not so hidden so that the horny daddies could find it.

The women who danced at Pink Lady were top-notch, each one a seasoned pro with a curvy, delectable body and a street-smart business sense.  The club owner had lured them from New York, Vegas, LA, and the quality showed.  As long as Pink Lady kept free from scandal, the club would be in business for a long, long time.

The Pink Lady’s main stage jutted out into the audience, allowing patrons to sit almost in a semi-circle around the featured dancer.  Vincente occupied the table right against the stage wall.  From this vantage point, he could look up and watch the dancers from behind, giving him a prime view of their beautiful rears.  He ordered another bourbon and then settled in to watch the show.

In truth, he rarely visited the Pink Lady.  Strippers and whores disgusted him.  But tonight was an unusual night; Mia’s naked ass danced in his thoughts.  He **_had_** to see more nude butts to satisfy his lust.

Three dancers came out, then another three, then the first three again.  Vincente studied their butts carefully, disappointed that each pair of buttocks he saw was either too flabby or too bony.  Not one of the girls had the right junk in the trunk.  Strippers, he thought angrily, should be no older than twenty-five.  Perhaps if he drove up to that new club he’d heard about, the one with the lesbian floor show-

“ _Gentlemen, please give_ **Bamzuka** _a warm Pink Lady welcome!_ ” the DJ bellowed over the speakers.

A new girl pranced out onto the stage.  A fake blonde, she was tall and well-toned, perhaps in her early thirties.  Her breasts were disappointingly small, but Vincente perked up when he saw her ass.  Nice.  Curvy, muscle-lined, swinging very nicely to the loud music.  He settled back, enjoying the show.  Yeah.  Bamzuka had a great butt.

As her set finished, Vincente made a grand show of placing twenty dollars on his table.  The stripper didn’t even bother going backstage; she came straight to him.

******

Secluded in one of the VIP rooms, Vincente and Bamzuka skipped the awkward small talk.  “Its twenty for a slow song, fifty for three songs,” the blonde recited, already looking bored.  “A hundred gets you a full half-hour.  And I do off-menu.”

Which meant she’d toss in a blow job.  If the price was right.

“Let’s do this,” Vincente grumbled, fishing out his wallet.  “Let me do a half hour, with the extras?”

“Three hundred,” Bamzuka said, not batting an eye.

Money changed hands.  The young woman reached for Vincente’s belt buckle.

“Oh no no no,” the older man said.  “I want something different.”

Bamzuka was thrown off guard.  “Oh?” she drawled.

“Take off your thong,” Vincente commanded.

The woman weighed the situation, then shrugged.  She complied.

“Now turn around,” ordered the customer.  “Bend over.”

Bamzuka again did as requested.

Taking his time, Vincente cupped each of the stripper’s naked buttocks.  He lifted them slightly, feeling their weight, enjoying their feel against his palms.  They felt good.

“No poking into holes back there,” Bamzuka said sharply.

Vincente scowled.  The stupid woman was ruining the mood.  He closed his eyes, and tried to imagine he was cupping Mia’s butt.

No…  No, he could tell.  The shape wasn’t right.  Bamzuka was a pretty woman, but her ass wasn’t a teenager’s supple ass.  It just wasn’t the same.

Sighing, Vincente sat back into the fake leather couch.  “Sit on me,” he ordered.  “Then wiggle back and forth.”

“You… want a lapdance, hon?” Bamzuka asked, puzzled.

“Just sit and wiggle,” the man grunted.

Looking resigned, the stripper did as requested.  She wasn’t so much as dancing as sweeping Vincente’s lap with her naked ass.

The older man shut his eyes again, doing his best to picture the irresistible Mia in place of his rented whore.  He felt the twin buttocks sliding back and forth, and…

No, it was no good.  No amount of imagination was going to make this fantasy come true.  Bamzuka had the best butt at The Pink Lady, and she wasn’t a patch on the bikinied teenager.

Disgusted, Vincente shoved Bamzuka aside and stormed out of the strip club.  He’d spent a grand total of four minutes in the VIP room.

******

When his lust threatened to drive him to crazy distraction, Vincente Lopez found it useful to dive into work.  There was always much to do.

He was a Senior Administrator of OrlandoHealth, the largest hospital network in the city.  Consequently, Vincente could oversee the running of the surgical, maternity, cancer, and various other associated wings of the local hospitals.  He would negotiate with the unions at contract time; he would press the flesh at City Hall at tax time; he would travel the country, looking to steal the brightest talent from his rivals.  Vincente did it all.

Normally, work would clear his head and eradicate all thoughts of beautiful, young women and their luscious asses.  But not this time.  The few seconds he had in his memory of Mia’s butt played over and over, dancing before him.  It was all but impossible to concentrate.

“Mr. Lopez?” Paula Gorman was saying, leaning over his desk.

Vincente blinked, pulling himself back into the present.  Right.  Budget Review Meeting.

He sighed.  “I told you,” he frowned at Paula and the other money people, “I need that extra three million for the DiamondEye.”

Crowded around his desk, the beancounters cast worried glances at one another.  DiamondEye was a computerized ultralength graph scanner, designed to look into a patient and detect even the faintest trace of most cancers.  Only three hospitals in the world had one; Vincente dreamed that Orlando Mercy Hospital would be the forth.

Ah, DiamondEye.  Even the James Bond-like name was cool.  That glorious machine was the key to making Orlando the premiere destination for advanced cancer treatment.  DiamondEye would pull the most lucrative cases to Vincente’s hospitals, he was sure of it.  Best of all, while Grandpa was receiving space-age treatment for his liver cancer, the rest of the family could spend the day at Disney World.  The scheme was brilliant.

“We don’t have the initial three million,” Paula said flatly.

Vincente glanced at his watch.  “Well, find it,” he grunted.  “Just don’t disrupt any of my projects.”

The budget people exchanged more quizzical expressions.  Vincente’s projects included all the city hospitals.  He had something going on in every department.  To find three million dollars yet not upset anything he touched… would be like searching a haystack without disturbing a single straw.

******

As Senior Hospital Administrator, Vincente could select any doctor he wanted as his primary care physician.  This was a gross abuse of the hospital system, of course, but the doctors who treated him were handsomely rewarded.  Vincente’s people saw to that.

So between lunch and his strategy planning meeting with Neurology, Vincente discretely slipped into Dr. Juan Sanchez’s private office, an expansive suite in the Cardiology Department.  Here, Vincente could squeeze in a full physical plus get his medications.  And no-one on the general staff would be any wiser.

“Your cholesterol is way too high,” Juan fretted, looking over a chart as Vincente buttoned up his shirt.  “I don’t like your other vitals, either.”

“Mmgh,” Vincente grunted.

“You’ve been doing the treadmill?” asked the doctor pointedly.

“Yes.  Oh, yes,” lied Vincente, not making eye contact.

Juan sighed, closing the chart.  “You know,” he scolded, “there’s no point in seeing the highest-paid cardiologist in the state when you don’t take his advice.  I’m prescribing more Lisinopril, and you stay on the Tylenol.  But what you really need is exercise.”

Vincente restored a cufflink.  “You sound like Sofia,” he grumbled.

“Listen to your wife, she’s a smart lady,” shot back Juan.  “Listen, I have an idea.  Julia’s been aching to go to the beach this weekend, and she’s wanted to spend some time with Sofia and your girls.  Maybe we should all go to Daytona?  A long beach stroll will do you good.”

Vincente paused, considering.  A beach meant young women in bikinis…  Naw.

The patient opened his mouth to argue when Juan firmly cut him off.  “Doctor’s orders, Vincente.  I’ll alert Sofia.”

******

That Saturday, the weather was sunny and warm.  Beach weather.  Vincente allowed himself to be stuffed into his only bathing shorts, faded orange monstrocies from the Seventies.  With his enormous gut hanging over in all directions and his spindly white legs, Vincente felt like a Buddha on chicken legs.  His daughters Martina and Gabriela burst out into cruel laughter when they saw him.

And two hours later, Vincente found himself on Daytona Beach, under a rented beach umbrella.  Like a common _tonto_ , he squatted in the sand and glumly watching young people play in the surf.

“See?” Juan said cheerfully, slapping him on the back.  “This is living it, right?”

Vincente was too grumpy to argue.

He sat there, jealously watching the young women while Sofia and Julia launched into an inane conversation about their soap operas.  Martina and Gabriela read romance novels while munching pork rinds, and Juan kept trying to talk to him about baseball.

Vincente was in Hell.  He hated Daytona, the beach, the sand, the surf, everything.  Worst of all, he felt naked and he hated that his body was clearly on display for all to see.

“I think I’ll go for a walk,” he abruptly announced, cutting Juan off mid-sentence.

“Eh?” the doctor said.  “Oh.  Oh, good.  That’s why you came here, eh?”

But Vincente was already walking away.

******

He walked north, not caring how far he went or what he saw.  All there was was beach, more and more and more beach.  Daytona Beach as far as the eye could see.  Beach covered by fat beach-goers.  And screaming children.  And skinny young people.  Vincente’s lip curled in disgust.

After an hour, maybe longer, the older man’s feet began to ache.  His knees were tired, and his mouth was dry.  The last thing Vincente want to do was return to his family and that prat Juan Sanchez, but there was no-where else to go.  Besides-

Vincente froze, his ears detecting something… something familiar.  He looked about, straining to listen above the rumbling surf.

Up on the beach, just where the tall grasses met the sand, was a rickety-looking snack stand.  Jefferson Smith’s Eats boasted the hand-painted sign.  Vincente squinted, peering into the small throng of people-

Wait!  It was her!  **_Her!_**

**_Mia!_ **

Vincente’s heart thumped in his chest like a kettle drum.  There she was!  Unmistakable!  The young girl was behind the cash register, cheerfully laughing with her friends behind the counter.  As Vincente stared, she handed a soda to a customer, smiling like an angel.

Oh, she looked good.  Beautiful, just as Vincente remembered.  That short-cropped hair was somehow spiked up, but Mia’s gorgeous eyes, lips, and complexion made even a bad punk hairdo look scrumptious.

Like a man in a trance, Vincente staggered up to Jefferson Smith’s Eats.  Right up to the register.

As he approached, he could see more of the object of his desire.  She was in a bikini again, this one bright red with a little American flag emblem over each bouncy breast.  As he looked over the counter, Vincente saw her perfect little feet in gray flip-flops, and a tattoo of what looked like… a yin-yang sign on her inner thigh.

She was even sexier up close.

“Hi there,” the teen smiled at Vincente.  “What’ll it be?”

Vincente swallowed.  “Uh…” he mumbled, suddenly aware of his sprawling gut, his flabby arms, and his comb-over hopelessly flopping about in the beach winds.

“I’m thirsty,” he said, for it was true.  “Uh, some water please?”

Mia nodded happily, producing a plastic bottle from under the counter.

“Oh,” said Vincente, realizing to late that…  “Uh, I don’t have any money.”

He felt like a fool.  A hopeless, hapless fool.

“Oh,” said Mia, nonplussed.  She frowned a little at her customer.  “You poor guy, you look parched.”

“Yeah,” Vincente said lamely.  “Yeah, its… hot out.”

The teen girl nodded, understanding.  “I gotcha,” she assured Vincente in a sly voice.

And then, the teen spun around, half-skipping to the water cooler behind her.  Her graceful fingers snatched a plastic cup and filled it.

The moment Mia turned, Vincente’s eyes zoomed down to her ass.  He couldn’t help himself.

There… it… was.  Magnificent.  Even **_better_** than he remembered.  Mia’s butt was rounder and fuller and firmer and more delicious than before.  Even as she filled the cup, the girl shifted her hips just a little, and Vincente stared in amazement as the two butt cheeks gracefully swayed under her red bikini bottom.

He was instantly erect.

“Here you are,” Mia grinned, handing over the cool water.  In a naughty tone, she added, “Just don’t tell the manager.”

And before Vincente could say anything, she was focused on the next customer in line.  He was already forgotten.

The hospital administrator stepped away, his head spinning.  He gratefully sipped the water.

It was delicious.

******


	2. Chapter 2

“You know,” Vincente said casually over dinner two night later, “I had a really great time at the beach this weekend.”

Sofia and the girls looked up at him in surprise.

“I did,” Vincente insisted.  “In fact, I was thinking we as a family should go back.  To Daytona Beach, I mean.  The ocean air really did some wonders for me.”

“Hmmgh,” replied Sofia, suspicious.

Vincente ignored her narrowed eyes.  He dipped the steak on his fork back into the butter sauce, commenting, “We could get a beach house up there, you know.  There’s still plenty of rentals available.”

“I could work on my book,” Martina exclaimed.  The poor girl was under the delusion that she could craft the definitive guidebook on Florida’s dance clubs.

“And you could invite your girlfriends to come and visit on the weekends,” Vincente offered to Sofia.  “Beach parties are in this season.”

His fat wife reached for a dinner roll, reconsidering.

******

The next day in the office, Vincente called his staff into his office.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said.  “We have that hospital up in the Daytona area, don’t we?”

“Yes sir,” replied Hector Cruz, his chief assistant.  “Mercy Central.  But remember, we’re in the process of selling it off.  Last quarter, they lost over-“

“Yes, yes,” Vincente said impatiently.  “You know, I was thinking.  Maybe its too soon to sell off Mercy Central.  Maybe they’d benefit from my personal attention for a few months.”

Eyebrows went up around the room.  The Grand High Administrator leave his Orlando perch?  This was unheard of.

“Never sell off an asset until you’re certain it’s the right thing to do,” Vincente lectured his staff.  “Make the preparations.  I’ll be working out of Mercy Central this summer.”

******

It was, of course, far too late in the season to snag a beach house for a reasonable contract.  Furious, Vincente retained three different realtors, who in turn browbeat every client they knew.  In the end, the Thomas Hayes family of Wichita agreed to give up their beachside lease, but only after Vincente agreed to plunk down triple of what they paid for it.

After carefully making sure that Sofia would never discover this ridiculous expense, Vincente moved his family in.  All three women immediately declared the little house to be horrid and unsuitable.  Vincente abandoned them to their complaints, giving Sofia as much reign as she liked to redecorate.

He didn’t care about the house, nor about the extravagant parties Sofia envisioned, nor the percentage of his savings that was being sunk into this whole misguided enterprise.

All he cared about was that the house was a mere two hundred yards from Jefferson Smith’s Eats.

******

OrlandoHealth had acquired Daytona’s Mercy Central Hospital back in 1968, when there were hopes that OrlandoHealth might become a national chain.  But the satellite hospital was never really given the support it needed to stand on its own two feet.  Fifteen years of neglect and budget-raiding had left Mercy Central with crumbling facilities, sub-par doctors, long lines for bad service, and little empathy for the patients.  The hospital stood next to an old cemetery, and Daytona residents liked to joke that the city’s ambulance drivers couldn’t tell the two apart.

Vincente was indifferent to all of this as he strode into Mercy Central’s administrative offices the next Monday morning.  He was met by Mary Higgens, the local admin.

“I’ll be needing executive office space, all summer,” Vincente said to her, not even bothering with a formal greeting.

“We’ll see what we can do…” Ms. Higgens managed.

“Your office will do nicely,” said the older man, already marching inside.  “Also, I’ll need, eh, all the financials and budget reports.  In hardcopy.  Before lunch.  Can you manage that?”

Ms. Higgens didn’t have much of a choice.

“Ah, Mr. Lopez,” she said gingerly, switching to another topic.  “About that budget cut, three million dollars?”

 _Three million?_ Vincent thought absently.  _Oh, right – that’s the three million we’re putting into the DiamondEye scanner._

“Well,” said Ms. Higgens, wringing her hands, “We’ve gone over the books.  I’m afraid the only place we can cut it from the Emergency Room.”

“Fine,” Vincente said, waving one hand.

“But Mr. Lopez!” protested Ms. Higgens.  “Our ER is under code as it is!  Take another three million, and… well, service could collapse!”

Vincente snorted.  What did he care?  In three months, Mercy Central Hospital would be sold off.

******

Shortly after receiving the budget printouts, Vincente stuffed them under his arm and announced that he would be working from home for the rest of the day.

Instead, he drove straight to the beach.  To the parking lot behind Jefferson Smith’s Eats.

Vincente tossed the printouts into the trash.  He then set up a deluxe lawn chair, right where he could see the ocean… but positioned so it was easy to see inside the little snack shop.  To the casual passer-by, he was careful to be watching seagulls.

But he was looking and listening for Mia.

 ** _There she was._**   Once again in a bikini, the saucy teen was behind the register, serving a tray of hot dogs to a bickering family of six.  From his vantagepoint, Vincente could see her bare shoulders, tanned back, strong arms… and her ass.  Her wonderful, wonderful ass.

Vincente couldn’t help but stare through his binoculars.  He sighed happily.

******

And that was the summer.  Every morning, Vincente would commute to Mercy Central, pretend to do work, then leave “for home” around 11:00 am.  He would be on the beach and in position by 11:30, carefully maintaining his stakeout of Jefferson Smith.

Of course, he never dared to buy food at the snack shop.  Vincente was a smart man.  As badly as he wanted to stare at Mia up close, he never, ever approached her.  After all, if she learned to recognize his face, her suspicions could be aroused.  Better to observe her from afar, he reasoned.

So on his daily commute from Mercy Central to the beach, Vincente would swing through a drive-through.  Dr. Sanchez would no doubt frown at all that deep-fried food, but what of it?  Mia’s ass was beaconing.

******

Mia worked six days a week, taking Mondays off.  She typically manned the register, although occasionally she would operate the hot dog machine or the make a supply run.  She liked the green porta potties that were up beside the boardwalk, presumably because they were the least used.  And she **_always_** swam in the ocean on her lunch breaks.

Oh, Vincente learned to time everything around those swims.  Promptly at 2:00 PM, Mia would clock out, then run straight into the surf, that fabulous ass bouncing happily away as she jogged.  She’d leap into the waves, dog-paddle for a while, then seriously break into a speed swim.  Depending on the temperature, she’d stay out there twenty minutes, sometimes longer.  One Thursday, when she didn’t pop up for nearly three-quarters of an hour; Vincente nearly alerted the lifeguards.

At first, Mia was dating a boy named Henry, who was lucky she even looked his way.  But Henry forgot her 19th birthday and Mia promptly dumped him for Eduardo.  The new fellow had a surfer’s body, and he liked to grope his voluptuous girlfriend when the two were frolicking in the water.  Vincente watched the boy’s hands squeeze Mia’s beautiful rear, and he was bitterly jealous.

At the end of each day, Mia and her fellow Jefferson employees would lock up the little shack, chuck the trash into the dumpsters, and then pile into the same shitty pickup truck Vincente remembered.  Where they went, he couldn’t learn.

******

June rolled into July.

Vincente simply couldn’t get enough of watching Mia.  Try as he might, he couldn’t get Mia out of his head.  The girl taunted him, in his absent thoughts and in his dreams.  And no matter how hard he resisted, he always returned to the dune behind Jefferson Smith’s Eats, eager for another brief glimpse of the Universe’s Sexiest Ass.  No amount of staring could assuage him.

But what was the goal here?  Sooner or later, the summer would end.  Jefferson Smith would close, and Mia would certainly stop wearing bikinis in public.  Vincente suddenly felt like the summer was flying by.  He had to…

To what?  To stare at Mia a little more?

No, staring at the girl from afar, and in her bikini, was just a tease.  When Vincente was honest with himself, brutally honest, he knew he had only one goal worth attaining.  He had to see Mia’s **_naked_**  butt, and he wanted it pressed against his own body.

Only then would his lust be satisfied.

******

Toward the end of July, Sofia was ready to host her first party.  She insisted on a Friday mid-afternoon affair, with catering and expensive party games.  Vincente, Martina, and Gabriela were all stuffed into their formal best; it was hard to say which of the three were the most miserable.

By 1:30 PM, the party was started.  Sofia’s guests were already tipsy, and it was fairly obvious that many of them should not drive back to Orlando once festivities were over.  Vincente stood brooding the corner, eating Cream Cheese Poppers and Salami.

He longed to be out of there.  In a little while, Mia would clock out for lunch, and then there would be that fabulous moment when she ran into the waves.  It was the best time to watch her.  Today would be the first time Vincente had missed it.  He raged inside.

“Well, hello there!” a too-familiar voice gushed.

Vincente turned, finding himself face-to-face with Juan Sanchez.  The cardiologist was wearing a truly hideous polo shirt.

Managing a half-smile, Vincente mumbled greetings.

“You’re looking quite well,” Juan observed.  “Goodness, I never imagined you’d work up such a nice tan!  You’ve been outdoors, eh?  Good!”

“Right, right,” grunted Vincente.  “Doctor’s orders, like you said.”

“Not doing as good a job on the diet, though,” Juan blabbered on, eyeing the fatty hors d'oeuvres in the administrator’s napkin.

Vincente scowled.

******

The party broke up around 7:30 PM, which was long after Sofia promised it would end.  Although he knew it was probably too late, Vincente hurried to the beach, hoping to spot Mia just for a moment.  A glimpse would do.

To his dismay, Jefferson Smith’s Eats was closed for the night.  The little shack was shuttered and dark.

However, there was a bigger commotion further up the beach.  Frowning, Vincente craned his neck.  There were about a hundred or so young people, all crowded about one of the beach pavilions.  He could hear a man shouting, and then much laughing.

Could Mia be there?  The sun was nearly set.  There were no other people about.  If Mia wasn’t in that crowd, Lord knows where she might be.

So Vincente moved up the beach.

The young crowd had formed a thick circle, watching something within.  And although Vincente was easily the oldest person there, no-one really noticed him in the fading sunlight.  The older man elbowed his way in, looking about for Mia.

In the center of the circle were two muscular young men, each perhaps twenty years old, dressed only in long swim trunks.  They were walking about in an aimless pattern, approaching people and asking a question.  This was producing gales of laughter.

As Vincente stood there, one of the men staggered up to him.  “Hey bro,” the guy said worriedly.  “Have you seen my dick?”

“…what?!?” sputtered the hospital administrator.

“Its gone!” the man wailed.

Vincente wondered what the hell had gotten into this kid.  Before he could say anything, the fellow moved on to a young woman.  “Have you seen my dick?” he queried her.

Stunned, Vincente instinctively turned to a different woman next to him.  “What… what is this guy on?” he asked.

The woman’s eyes were bright from laughing.  “Benjamín?” she smiled.  “Oh, he’s hypnotized.”

“Hypnotized?” Vincente echoed.

“Yeah,” said the woman.  She pointed to Benjamín and the second hapless fellow, also imploring the crowd for his penis.  “Benjamín and Iker, they got hypnotized on a dare.  Look at them, they’re hilarious.  Right now, they think their dicks detached from their bodies and wandered off.”  She chuckled.

A third fellow, early twenties, handsome and thin, stood at the very center of the circle.  Powerfully-built, with a shaved head and a huge snake tattoo wrapping around his shoulders and neck, the guy had an intimidating presence.  And like most of the young people here, he was clad only in swimwear.

As Vincente watched, this third fellow sprang to life, calling out to the pair of hypnotized men.  “Benjamín and Iker, c’mere, bros,” he called out.  “C’mere!”

The two guys obediently wandered up.  They gaped at the man with dazed expressions.

“When I snap my fingers, bros,” the third fellow announced, “your dicks are re-attached to your bodies.  Problem is, they are connected to your foreheads, not your groins.”

He snapped his fingers once.

Immediately, Benjamín looked up, dismayed at the imaginary genitalia dangling from the top of his head.  “Awwwww, man!” he groaned.  “How’d it get up there?!?”

The crowd exploded in delighted laughter.

Amused, Vincente lingered to watch the show.  The hypnotist, whomever he was, had complete control over poor Benjamín and Iker.  He used them well to entertain the makeshift audience.

But eventually, the older man’s thoughts drifted back to Mia.  He started scanning the crowd again, looking for that short, cropped black hair, that incredible body, and that prize-winning butt.  But Mia was not there.

******

By mid-August, Vincente was beginning to feel depressed.  Sofia was gearing up to host another party, an even bigger one.  This shindig would be thrown at night, right on the beach, and it had been a struggle to get everything organized.  Obtaining the city permits alone required a lot of work.

“This party will be **_the_** summer event,” Sofia said for the billionth time.  Using Vincente’s political connections, she was determined to lure Daytona’s mayor himself to the festivities.

******

Meanwhile, Vincente was finding trouble to justify his time at Mercy Central.  His board of directors wanted to know why OrlandoHealth’s Head Administrator was spending all summer at a dilapidated hospital on the seller’s block.  Vincente had to cook up more and more excuses to remain.

His best fiction was that he should personally oversee Mercy Central to break up the hospital and sell it piecemeal.  This meant Vincente actually had to comb through the books, looking for departments which could be sold to rival hospitals.  Or to locate Mercy Central equipment that could be sold at auction.  One Tuesday, Vincente realized that if he laid off half the ER staff, he could save OrlandoHealth two million dollars, easy.

“Mr. Lopez!” implored Mary Higgens.  “Please, if nothing else, leave our ER intact!  The city depends on that ER!  Services are a bare minimum as it is!”

But on that day, Vincente was late to get to Jefferson Smith’s.  He ordered the budget cuts to be made as he hurried out the door.

******

That was the day Vincente was nearly in Heaven.

At 2:00, munching his cheeseburger, he carefully watched Mia splash into the surf.  This time, she was accompanied by Camila, another girl who worked the snack shop.  No-one else was nearby.

As they pranced into the deeper water, a wave knocked Mia off her feet.  She screamed playfully as she tumbled backwards.  Camila hurried over.

“My bottom!” Mia shouted over the surf.  “My bikini bottom came untied!”  She laughed.

Vincente’s heart leapt.  Instantly, he was on his feet, openly staring through his binoculars.  His chest pounded.

Sure enough, Mia had done a sloppy job of tying on her bikini, and now the little patch of clothing was missing.  Vincente could see her in profile, could see that creamy body from breasts down to hips, uninterrupted by the swimwear.  She was nude from the waist down!

Mia put a hand over her crotch and squatted in the surf, submerging her naked parts.  Vincente had no chance to see her nude ass.

Meanwhile, Camila found the bikini bottom before it drifted off to sea.  She brought it to Mia, and did her best to help her friend put it back on.  Of course, she inadvertently blocked Vincente’s view.

And then the bikini crisis was averted.  Both girls, giggling at the mishap, ducked into the waves and swam off.

Vincente sat back down, nearly heartbroken.  So close!

******


	3. Chapter 3

On the last week of the summer, Vincente decided to tour Mercy Central one last time, if only so that he had a decent idea of what equipment could be immediately shipped back to Orlando.  Much of what he saw was far too old, only confirming his opinion that the hospital was not salvageable.

As he was exiting Pharmaceuticals, Vincente turned a corner, and nearly ran into a male nurse.  The fellow jumped back, averting his eyes.

Vincente was about to stride down the corridor when his brain skipped.  He knew that nurse!  The hospital administrator turned, studying the man closely.

The fellow was young, lean, and good-looking, with a shaved head and piercing brown eyes.  His nurse scrubs were slightly too large for him, which exposed his neck and some of his shoulders.  A tattoo of a cobra or python or something winded its way up from his body and around his neck…

“You!” Vincente exclaimed.

The nurse stiffened, obviously assuming he was in trouble.

Vincente rounded on the younger man.  “You!” he repeated.  “I know you, you’re… you’re that beach hypnotist!”

A look of surprise rippled across the face of the nurse.  “Uh… yeah,” he admitted.  Quickly, the fellow added, “Hey, doing hypnosis on the beach, that’s not illegal, _señor_.”

Inside, Vincente grinned.  A plan was hatching within his corrupt little mind.

“Come with me,” he growled to the nurse.

******

The two men shut themselves in an unused examination room, and Vincente was careful to lock the door.

The nurse was Rodrigo, a recent addition to the Mercy Central staff.  Under pressure, the boy quickly explained that he’d studied hypnotism in the hopes of launching a stage career.  But his fretting mamma forbade it, and pushed him to nursing school instead.  So Rodrigo did hypnosis on the side.

“But you can’t fire me for what I do in my spare time,” the nurse insisted.

Inside, Vincente gloated. The boy was worried about getting fired?  Good.  That was leverage.

“I want you to do a hypnotism for me,” the administrator said.  “This will be strictly between you and me, the hospital is not involved, do you get me?”

Puzzled, Rodrigo cocked his head to one side.

“This is… just something you could do for me, eh?” Vincente coaxed.

That was a mistake.  The nurse, before alarmed, was now suspicious.  “What’s the job?”

“Nothing you haven’t done before, I’m certain,” Vincente said vaguely.  “Can you… you know, put someone under… and then program them to obey someone else’s commands?”

Rodrigo crossed his arms.  “That’s not how it works, _señor_.  My subjects only take suggestions from me.”

Vincente frowned.  That was bad.  If Mia was to be hypnotized and then compelled to show off her naked ass, Rodrigo would have to be there to give the order.  Vincente didn’t want witnesses.

The hospital administrator chewed his lip, weighing his options.  “Very well,” he grunted.  “So let’s come to some sort of arrangement, eh?  You do your hypnotism on someone for me, and I’ll-“

“What person?” interrupted Rodrigo.

The administrator felt a flash of annoyance.  Didn’t this kid understand that Vincente was his superior?

Back when Vincente was growing up, there was an understood code: if you helped a powerful man… and asked no questions… then you’d be rewarded.  Period.  Even if that favor was, well, of a dubious nature.  Powerful men were to be respected.  Young people today, they had no idea how the world was **_supposed_** to work.

Vincente scowled, deciding one last time to try tempting with honey before applying harsher tactics.

“There’s a girl who… interests me,” he admitted.  “I don’t want to do anything sexual to her, but I would like to see her-“

“Naked?” Rodrigo interrupted again.

Vincente pressed his lips together.  “Yes,” he said.  “Naked.  Just naked, you get it.”

The administrator stepped closer, lowering his voice.  “You hypnotize this girl for me,” Vincente coaxed, “and I’ll pay you.  Handsomely.”

The nurse was unimpressed.  “Hypnosis isn’t voodoo magic, _señor_.  I can’t-“

“I’ve seen you work,” argued Vincente.  “You can find a way.  This girl, she’s…”  He paused, wondering how much he should reveal.  “She’s beautiful, no, but she’s dumb as a rock.  She’ll be easy.”

“You don’t know what you’re taking about,” Rodrigo said, shaking his head.

Vincente was unused to anyone – **_anyone_** – under his supervision ever telling him “No.”  Rodrigo wouldn’t play ball?  Time for the brass knuckles.

“You know,” said Vincente, straightening, “there have been a lot of unexplained… removals… from the Pharmaceutical lockers lately.  Would be a shame if you were implicated.”

The nurse’s face hardened.  “I didn’t steal anything, _señor_.”

“Maybe,” Vincente said dangerously.  “Of course, I did notice you outside Pharma storage, just now.”

Rodrigo’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m just saying,” said Vincente, drawing out each word, “that if there was an investigation, you’d find it hard to purge that from your record.  No-one wants to hire a nurse that was publicly accused of stealing.”

“Well,” Rodrigo said, his jaw jutting forward, “if we’re threatening one another, _señor_ , then-“

“No threats,” said Vincente, quickly.  “Just… thinking aloud.”

But the veiled intimidation hung in the air, nonetheless.

The nurse shook his head, disgusted.  “Fine,” he glowered.  “I’ll do it.  But I don’t want your money.  I want something from you, old man.  You dig?”

“Three hundred dollars,” Vincente offered.  “Take it or leave it.”

It was an insulting offer, and both men knew it.  Rodrigo’s expression darkened.  The younger man chuckled harshly.

“No, _señor_ ,” he sneered.  “You want me to get your lady naked?  I’ll need much more than three hundred.  You probably spend three hundred bucks a week on lawn care, am I right?  I don’t want your chump change.  I want something **_valuable._** ”

Vincente shifted his weight.  “What?”

“I want five minutes alone in the Phara lockers,” demanded Rodrigo.  “Five minutes alone.  And no checking the inventories when I’m done.  You dig?”

Despite his greed, Vincente hesitated.  Theft of pharmaceuticals was a serious, serious crime.  Lord knew what kind of damage could happen if they were to spill out onto the black market.  If discovered, the scandal could be devastating for OrlandoHealth.

“Nothing’s gonna happen,” Rodrigo said quietly, as if guessing Vincente’s thoughts.  “Five minutes.  You fix the books later.  That’s all.”

Vincente pursed his lips, thinking.

On the other hand…  Within a month, Mercy Central would be sold off or broken up.  If medication traced back to the hospital were to appear on the streets, it would be easy for OrlandoHealth’s lawyers to suggest that the stolen pills were lifted **_after_** Vincente gave up the keys.  Right?

And could Vincente risk browbeating the younger man into hypnotizing Mia for a lesser prize?  The nurse had proven more resistant than Vincente had anticipated.  The administrator had conducted enough corporate negotiations to recognize when an opponent will settle for nothing less than their stated objective.

Fine.

“Done,” Vincente agreed.  He and Rodrigo shook hands.

******

The two men hatched their plan.  “We can’t just walk up to your _dama_ and dangle a pocketwatch before her,” Rodrigo explained.  “People can’t be tricked into doing hypnosis.  Doesn’t happen.  Your lady has to **_fully agree_** to being hypnotized.”

“Are you sure?” Vincente asked, dismayed.  He’d assumed that Mia could be lulled into a trance without realizing it.

“Am I sure?” the nurse scoffed.  “ _Señor_ , I’ve been doing hypnosis for seven years.  Of course I’m sure.”

“Well… how do you…”

“Relax,” grinned Rodrigo.  “There are ways of tricking her to agree.”

******

That Saturday was Sofia’s beach party.  It was also the last night of the summer season.  Tomorrow morning, Daytona would shut down for the autumn.

Vincente grudgingly agreed to serve as Sofia’s bartender.  He duly put his best foot forward as the party was set up, right down to making three runs back to the house for more food.  But the whole time, he kept a sharp eye on his watch.

The guests arrived.  Wine flowed.  The live jazz band sounded great.  Sofia, dolled up in a party dress which did little to help her figure, was in her element.  She floated between party-goers, chatting and laughing and gossiping and playing the hostess.  As she got drunker, her charms grew duller.

******

The sun lowered in the sky.  Martina and Gabriela cringed as their mother pressed the flesh and drank even more.  The guests ate and chatted, although no-one could be coaxed into dancing.  The party wasn’t quite the smash event of which Sofia had dreamed, but all were having a good time.

And then, exactly at 7:00 PM, Vincente stole away.  He simply left.  He set down his bartender’s apron, stepped out from the bar, and stole up the beach.  He told no-one he was going.  No-one noticed his departure.

******

Rodrigo’s van was parked off the boardwalk, almost directly behind Jefferson Smith’s Eats.  Vincente found the younger man rummaging about in the back of the vehicle.

“ ** _Hurry!_** ” hissed the hospital administrator.  If their plan was to work, they had to be at Jefferson **_just_** as the little shack was closing for the night.

“Relax,” grumbled Rodrigo.

He looked over Vincente with disapproval.  The older man was dressed as Sofia had commanded, in casual slacks, a button-down shirt, a tie, and loafers.  An ideal costume for hosting a ritzy party.

“Fuck no, _señor_!” swore the hypnotist.  “You look like my dad hosting a lawn sale.  The kids will never buy you like this.  Hurry, take off your shirt.”

“ ** _Excuse_** me?” Vincente retorted.

“You want to lose this opportunity?” snarled Rodrigo.  “We have to be in place in, like, a minute.”

Without waiting for an answer, he seized Vincente’s shirt and ripped it open.  Buttons sprayed in all directions.

“There, that looks okay,” muttered the nurse, forcing off the shirt and tie.  “Now, lose the shoes.  **_Do it_** , we’re nearly out of time.”

Vincente, humiliated at how his bulging gut was now naked for all to see, seethed.

“That’ll do,” Rodrigo said grudgingly.  He slapped a battered old red baseball cap on Vincente’s head, deliberately turning it backwards.  Then he grabbed a videocamera from the van and thrust it into the older man’s arms.

“Now **_com’on_** ,” the hypnotist ordered, and hurried towards the beach.

Vincente scrambled to keep up.  The camera was heavy and bulky, but it was essential for the plan.  He felt his heart pounding as they raced along.  It had been a long time since he’d moved this quickly.

******

The padlocks were just being placed on Jefferson Smith’s Eats when Rodrigo and Vincente arrived at the little shack.  Vincente thought his chest would burst from the running.

“Hey yo’s,” Rodrigo said to the teenagers, as he approached.

“Oh man!” one of the Jefferson teens exclaimed.  “Its that hypno guy!”

Despite his fluttering heart and heaving chest, Vincente glanced over the young people.  He and Rodrigo were barely on time.  Another few seconds, and the teens would have been gone, forever.

Now the kids gathered around, treating Rodrigo like a celebrity.  “Man,” one of the girls marveled.  “I saw what you did to Benjamín and Iker, that was crazy!”

Vincente recognized that girl; she was Camila, Mia’s friend.

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” the lean hypnotist mugged.  He loved the attention.

No-one so much as glanced as Vincente, which was probably just as well.  Red-faced and struggling with the heavy camera, he looked a fright.

The hospital administrator stole a moment to look over all the teens.  Was…  Yes!  There was Mia.  Dressed in a bikini, as always.  She and her boyfriend Eduardo were standing away from the others, holding hands and clearly in the mood for sex.  Yet they were watching Rodrigo, curious.  A small backpack dangled from a strap in Mia’s thin fingers.

“Listen, yo’s,” Rodrigo said proudly.  “I got some good news for all of you; how’d you like to be on national TV?”

The teens positively leapt into the air at this news.  “ ** _TV?_** ” the starstruck Camila squealed.

“Yeah, check it out,” Rodrigo grinned, indicating Vincente.  “See that old dude?  He’s my network cameraman.  We’ve been walking the beach all day, hypnotizing people for a TV special I’m doing.  Its been wild, yo’s.  But I need a fun-loving bunch for the grand finale.  Who wants to get on TV?”

“ ** _No shit!_** ” a guy teen exclaimed, completely buying it.

“Oh my God!” crowed Camila, really excited.  “You can totally hypnotize me.”

“Me too,” the guy added quickly.  Three more teens volunteered.

“Naw, guys, I need a big group,” Rodrigo shook his head.  “Big groups play better on TV.  I need you **_all_** to volunteer.”

Now the excited teens turned on their more-reluctant comrades, including Mia and her beau.  “ ** _Com’on_** you guyyyyys,” pleaded Camila.  “You know you’ve always wanted to know what getting hypnotized feels like!”

“Awwww… fine,” Eduardo grudgingly admitted.  “But it probably won’t work on me.”

Only Mia was the last holdout.  She looked nervously at Rodrigo.  “Is it… safe?” she asked.

“Totally,” promised the hypnotist.

“Com’on, Mia, **_com’on_** …!” her friends coaxed.

Vincente held his breath.

Mia rolled her eyes and blushed.  “Fine,” she smiled.  “What the hell.”

******

Vincente slung the heavy camera onto this shoulder and pretended to film.  Of course, the stupid thing didn’t even have batteries in it.  But the foolish kids knew no better.

Meanwhile, Rodrigo did his magic.  He instructed the teens to stand in a circle, squarely on their feet, arms at their sides, eyes closed.  Within the circle, the hypnotist paced around and around, telling his subjects that they were becoming relaxed, so relaxed…  Soon they would be asleep and happy to do whatever he commanded.  The kids did as he instructed.  Not one of the youngsters seemed to be able to break out of his spell.

Vincente kept the camera hoisted up, uncertain if it was safe to lower it yet.  He’d never seen anyone hypnotized before.  Soon his shoulder was aching and her arms tired.  His heart thumped harder.  But the older man dared not lower the camera for fear of ruining the moment.

As he struggled, he watched Mia’s beautiful face closely.  At first, her brow was wrinkled in concentration.  But as Rodrigo’s words seeped into her mind, the girl’s face lost all expression.

So Vincente moved around the circle, pretending to film as he walked.  He had to see Mia’s ass, now that it was **_so close_**.  He had to!  The older man realized that this was the closest he’d ever been to those two luscious buttocks.  He carefully moved directly behind her.  He couldn’t help it.

Ah, yes.  **_There it was._**   Mia’s ass.  Worth every moment of his obsession.  As Mia relaxed deeper and deeper into Rodrigo’s influence, both fabulous butt cheeks were relaxing, softening just a little.  They dipped slightly, perfectly filling the bikini bottom like wind in a sail.

Vincente couldn’t look away.

******

“There,” Rodrigo said, after a time.  “They’re under.”

The teens were all motionless, their faces blank, their arms limp, their heads bowed.  They appeared to be about to fall over.  Rodrigo inspected them all closely before moving to Vincente’s side.

“Now we…?” asked Vincente.

Rodrigo held up a hand.  “Now I give them simple suggestions,” he explained.  “Once they carry out the simple ones, their minds become more complacent to me.  **_Then_** you can have your prize.”

And then, Rodrigo began to play.  With his access to the teens’ minds, he effortlessly convinced them all that he was, in fact, Spider-Man.  The kids saw him in the spandex and the mask and everything.  Then, in the snap of a finger, they were all transformed into sexy Latin dancers.  After that, yes, the men were hypnotized to believe their penises gone.  The woman thought this was hilarious… until they realized their vaginas were hypnotically AWOL too.

Rodrigo obviously relished this power he held over the youngsters’ imaginations.  He grinned broadly when feeding them hypnotic instructions and positively laughed when they jumped to obey him.  Vincente could only admire his skill.

And Mia?  At first, she was a meek hypnotic subject.  She didn’t react at all when Rodrigo appeared to be Spider-Man.  And she was, at best, a half-hearted Latin dancer.  But then something happened within her mind, and suddenly she fell under deep, deep hypnosis.  She became was the best subject of the bunch, accepting Rodrigo’s every suggestion without hesitation.

Vincente watched her, only her.  He was so erect, he worried that his penis would give away the whole scheme.  But no-one noticed.

******

After an hour of playing with the teens, Rodrigo seemed to remember Vincente was there at all.

“Its time, _amigo_ ,” he said.  “You ready?  Your girl is really deep.  She’s ready for you.”

Vincente set down the camera, his heart thumping away.  He nodded wordlessly.

Rodrigo walked up to an entranced Mia.  Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said, “To the person I am touching **_right now_** : in a moment I will wake you.  You will look straight ahead, and **_you will believe_** that the man you see there is your husband, your loving, wonderful, super-sexy husband.  You will want to do nothing but lead him away into the dunes… and show him your love.  Show him your body and show him your love.  Nod exactly once if you understand.”

Mia’s head bobbed, just once.

Without having to be told, Vincente moved to stand directly before the hypnotized girl.

“Excellent,” smiled Rodrigo.  “ ** _Wake now!_** ”  He snapped his fingers.

Mia’s beautiful eyes slowly opened.  She wiped her face once, collecting her thoughts.  Vincente’s breath caught as they gazed at one another.

The teenager broke into a glowing smile.  “ _Mi amor,_ ” she whispered, and slipped into Vincente’s arms.  Her kiss, full and passionate, nearly knocked him over.

Vincente and Mia just kissed, maybe for a minute.  It was like the girl couldn’t get enough of Vincente’s lips.  He leaned in to her, delighted at her touch, the softness of her skin, the feel of her round breasts pressing against his chest.  His erection was nearly ripping out of his pants.

As they kissed, Vincente realized both of his hands were on Mia’s narrow back.  His right hand started to descend, sliding down her spine, approaching her tailbone, and then…

“Com’on, baby,” Mia whispered fiercely in his ear, before his fingers found her buttocks.  “Let’s be alone… yes?”

Without another word, the teen skipped away, to snatch her little backpack in the sand.

Rodrigo clutched Vincente’s forearm.  “This is your moment, _señor_ ,” he murmured to Vincente.  “I’ll convince her friends to go home and get high.  But you have an hour – at best – before the hypnosis wears off.”

“It wears off?” Vincente said, already disappointed.

“Of course it fucking wears off,” Rodrigo snapped.  “Right now, her mind is in a passive, suggestible state.  But sooner or later, her thinking will re-assert itself.  You have until then to do… whatever it is you want to do.  **_Use the time wisely_**.”

“Baby!” Mia cried, grabbing Vincente’s hand.  “Com’on!  Don’t you want me?”

And she pulled the older man up the beach, skipping with joy.  Vincente huffed to keep up.

******


	4. Chapter 4

The two fake-lovers ran north, enjoying the vast stretch of beach that they had all to themselves.  Although the sun was nearly set, Vincente could see Mia’s jiggling butt just before him, dancing as if to coax him on.  His heart pounded, but he maintained pursuit.

Mia had boundless energy.  She skipped and sang and laughed in delight, completely fooled by the hypnotic illusion that Vincente really was the love of her life.  Every now and then, just when Vincente thought he couldn’t possibly go on, she would turn and flash him a seductive grin.  Vincente’s cock would stiffen, and he’d hurry faster.

Finally, after what felt like miles, the girl slowed.  She drew close to her “husband,” ignoring his panting and sweat.  “This is perfect,” she whispered.  “Now I have you all alone.”

She was right.  Far above them on the beach, they could see the distant twinkle of a few campfires; otherwise, there was no-one in sight.  Even the boardwalk behind them was dark and empty.

Mia kissed Vincente again.  A soft kiss, but with deep promises of lust to follow.

“I… I… I need to sit,” gasped the older man.  As much as he wanted to hold this girl, he toppled onto his backside.

Mia giggled.  “You rest, baby,” she cooed.  “Let momma give you a show, eh?”

And then… Mia began stripping out of her bikini.  Facing Vincente, she pushed her bottoms all the way down to her ankles, then stepped out in a smooth, sexy motion.  The remainder of the dim sunlight setting behind Vincente painted her body in a rich, golden aura.  The older man gazed longingly at her bush, neatly trimmed.

Then Mia began to dance, just swaying her hips and shoulders, really.  But Vincente was completely seduced.  Her narrow little hands slid up her back, unclipping her top, and then tossing it to the ground.

Her nude breasts were incredible.  Large and round and supple.  Even the nipples and areolas were perfect.  Vincente had never seen a more beautiful naked woman.

“I want you, baby,” the girl rasped, betraying a lust and confidence that no nineteen-year-old should ever possess.

She strode forward, placing one foot directly before the other.  This caused her hips to sway in the most seductive way; Vincente nearly swooned.

Taking charge, Mia straddled her legs across her fake husband, placing her hands on his flabby chest.  At first, Vincente was ashamed of his own body, but Mia’s hypnosis-induced eyes saw only solid muscle.  She was horny.  Greedy kisses attacked Vincente’s lips and neck and he sighed with delight as she pressed against him, hard.

“ _Dios mío,_ ” murmured Mia, reaching down and touching Vincente’s cock through his straining pants.  “You **_are_** ready for me, aren’t you?”

With half-lidded eyes, Mia held Vincente’s gaze.  Her fingers found his zipper, pulling it downward.  At her touch, he obediently raised his hips, so she could shimmy off his pants and underwear.  Now they both were naked.

Mia smiled, climbing back onto her “husband.”  Vincente was nearly wild with passion.  _Are we gonna fuck?_ he wondered desperately.  _Are we actually gonna fuck?_

Grunting softly, the teenager rubbed her body against the older man.  They kissed, again.  Vincente’s heart pounded harder.

“Oh,” Mia breathed.  “I almost forgot…”

Leaning far to the left, she snatched her backpack, quickly unzipping it.  “You know what makes me really hot, baby?” she absently commented as her fingers searched.

Vincente squirmed when her hand produced two handcuffs.  Metal handcuffs, with pink furry covers over the manacles.  Grinning evilly, Mia moved to clip on to Vincente’s wrist.

“Hey,” he said, alarmed.

“Baby,” Mia sighed, pouting a little.  “I’m **_so wet_** for you.  You want to fuck me, no?”

“I…” said Vincente, struggling to think.  “Yeah.  Yeah!”

“I thought so,” smiled Mia.  **_Click!_** went the first set of cuffs, around Vincente’s left and Mia’s right wrists.

“Here, baby, you hold onto this,” the girl said softly, pressing the tiny metal key into Vincente’s hand.

And then she clicked on the second set of cuffs, binding their other wrists.

Mia sighed happily.  “Bondage makes me **_sooooo hot_** , baby,” she moaned, resuming the kissing.  She was sitting in his naked lap, facing him directly, her breasts in his face.  Vincente’s mind swam.

The cuffs effectively meant that Mia had control over Vincente’s arms.  He longed to cup her breasts, but she reached behind him, pulling his arms in the wrong direction.  Oh well.  Given the teen’s panting and greedy lips, he was sure he wouldn’t regret a moment of this pleasure.

It was only now that it occurred to Vincente: while he had seen Mia completely naked, he had yet to see her naked butt.  That was the whole point of tonight, wasn’t it?

Given his choice, Vincente would have wanted to enter Mia doggie-style.  That way, his first view of her nude rear would be while his manhood was sliding into her.  Being handcuffed face-to-face rendered that plan impossible.

“Now…” the girl murmured, raising her arms.  Vincente’s hands were forced behind his head, where Mia held them firmly in place.

“Oh yeah…” the girl whimpered, truly aroused now.  Her eyes closed.  She was losing control to her own lust.  The bondage was too much for her.

Locking Vincente in a deep French kiss, Mia somehow raised herself up, then slowly descended directly onto the older man’s cock.  Both man and woman gasped as penis and vagina met and kissed one another.

Mia was **_wet_**.  So wet.  As she flexed her muscles and completely immobilized Vincente’s arms, the girl began wriggling in his lap.  She was not fucking him, not yet.  Impaled on his shaft, she was simply swiveling her hips around, enjoying the sensation of Vincente filling her vagina.

“Mmmm, oh yeahhhhhh…” she moaned, her big eyes still closed.  In a trembling voice, she mumbled, “Oh baby, you feel **_sooo gooood_** inside me…”

Vincente gasped for breath.  His heart thundered within his chest.  All he could stare at are were those full breasts, pushed up against him.

Mia collected her legs, setting and tensing them just so.  Then, when she was ready, she started bouncing.  Just a little at first.

As she rose up and then back down for the first time, Vincente felt a wave of absolute pleasure wash over his cock.  His senses were unable to handle so much stimulation.  “Oh my God…!” he muttered, over and over again.

“Yes, baby,” Mia sighed, smiling.  “Ohhhhh yeah…”

She was bouncing higher and higher now, beginning to call out in little “Oh!  Oh!  Oh!” gasps.  Anyone who might have caught Mia’s voice on the sea breeze would unmistakably know that she was having sex.  Great, glorious sex.

Pinned underneath her and unable to move his arms at all, Vincente could only hang on and reel under her onslaught of pleasure.  His chest was ready to burst.

Suddenly Mia started shouting in ecstasy: “Yes!  **_Yes!  Oh, yes, yes, fuck me harder daddy, yes!_**   **_YES!!!_** ”  Her head tossed back as she rose and fell.

And that was it.  Vincente was cumming.  He was cumming like he hadn’t spouted since his thirties.  His semen blast was powerful and shook his own body to the core.  The man’s mouth dropped wide open as Mia’s breasts slapped his face and the semen spewed on.  He couldn’t think.

Mia was cumming, as well.  She and Eduardo had perfected this position, and she knew **_exactly_** how to angle her body so that her spot was licked by Vincente’s penis every time it thrust back up inside her.  Now she let the stimulation take control of her body, and she felt herself gush.

Vincente grinned like a fool.  While he had yet to actually see Mia’s butt, fucking the teen might be a better consolation prize.  She was beyond amazing as a lover.  Why he-

 ** _A sharp pain stabbed the center of Vincente’s chest!_**   As he cried out, his voice failed him.  The agony only grew and spread.

Suddenly his strength dissolved.  His arms and legs felt distant and tingly, and it was hard to breathe.  Mia’s body, once delightful, now felt as if it was crushing the life from him.  A horrible, smothering tightness gripped him.  He tried to yell out, to scream… but he had no breath.  His fingers involuntarily twitched.  His cock immediately shriveled.

His vision swam.  As the pain doubled and doubled again, Vincente felt cold all over.  He wasn’t certain what was happening to him…

…but he knew that these were all the classic symptoms of a major heart attack.

******

Mia realized there was something seriously wrong shortly after her orgasm faded.  Vincente was gasping pitifully, his eyes bulging in pain, his body almost completely limp.  The man’s feeble hands clawed the air and his mouth flopped like a fish.

The girl sprang to her feet, momentarily forgetting the handcuffs.  “Omigod, baby!” she cried.  “Are you alright?”

Vincente’s face twisted in pain.

“ ** _Oh my God!_** ” shrieked Mia.  She clamored to her feet, yanking on the handcuffs.  “ ** _Oh my God, HELP!!!_** ” she screamed as loudly as she could.  “ ** _HELP!!!  My husband is sick!!!  I need HELP!!!_** ”

Vincente gagged, wishing to God that this was not happening to him.

Mia strained at the bonds.  “Baby, baby,” she cooed, dropping back to her knees.  “The key, baby, where is the handcuff key?  I can get help…”

The key!  Vincente felt a pang of horror as he realized he’d flung away the tiny key when his hands spasm’ed.  That little sliver of metal could be anywhere in the dark sand.

“Baby, oh baby,” Mia fretted, also realizing the key was lost.  The poor girl was almost beside herself.  “Don’t you worry, baby, I’ll get you help.”

Mia stood, doing her best to drag the limp Vincente through the sand.  It was of little use.  He was too heavy and their arms twisted badly in the handcuffs.  Mia soon collapsed.

“ ** _HELP!!!_** ” she screamed again.  “ ** _HEEEEEEELLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPP!!!_** ”

Vincente was dimly aware of distant voices, shouting, approaching.  He swallowed, then blacked out.

******

Everything that followed happened in a haze.  Vincente’s vision was almost black.  Excited men and women were shouting, and then he heard a distant siren.  Strong hands suddenly grabbed his body, lifting him.  He felt cold cloth underneath him.

“Jesus Christ, they’re both **_naked_** and **_handcuffed together!_** ” a man exclaimed.

“Then she comes too,” a woman replied gruffly.

There was something placed over Vincente’s mouth, an oxygen mask, perhaps.  It was a little easier to breathe.

Then some hurried bumping and jostling, and he was pushed into the back of a vehicle.  Mia was beside him, whimpering and cradling his head.

“He’s my husband,” she said over and over again.

“Jesus,” the man said.  “Can we get her a jacket or something?”

“Nearest ER is Mercy Central,” said the woman.  “We gotta hurry, he’s in bad shape.”

Then the siren activated, and they were away.

******

Vincente was next aware of the ambulance screeching to a halt, and then an explosion of activity.  His stretcher was yanked from the vehicle, with Mia riding on top just to keep out of the way.  People were yelling all around him.

Corridors, rooms, feet pounding, lights passing overhead… the older man was barely aware of any of it.  His chest was getting tighter and it was even harder to breathe than before.  He was so afraid.

******

Hand were probing his body, strapping things to him.  A bright light directly was directly over him, almost blinding his eyes.  There was a metallic crunch, and his wrists were free; someone had cut away those ridiculous handcuffs.

“You’re his wife, ma’am?” a woman was saying, her voice rapid-fire.

“Yes,” Mia replied, still distraught.

“What’s his name, ma’am?” the woman asked.

Mia replied, “…what?”

“His name,” the woman repeated, impatiently.  She snapped her fingers several times.  “Your husband’s **_name_** , ma’am?!?”

“I…” Mia mumbled, no longer sounding upset.  “I…  Oh…  Oh my God.”

“Ma’am?”

“He’s **_not_** my husband,” the teenager said coldly.

Vincente struggled to tilt his head in the girl’s direction.  But he could already hear her bare feet running away.

“Jesus,” a man muttered to his colleague.  “For a hooker, she looked pretty smoking.”

“Shut up,” the other man snapped.  “Get this guy prepped.”

******

The overworked staff of Mercy Central did what they could, but it was hours before Vincente could go into surgery.  The tired surgeon had been on duty for nearly thirty hours before Vincente’s operation began.

There was much damage.  Vincente’s heart, left to suffer for too long, would never beat again without the aid of machines.  He suffered a stroke, impairing his legs and memory.  And he could never walk again.  He was lucky to have survived at all.

******


	5. Epilogue

Vincente sat in his wheelchair, brooding.  He was outside on the curb, perhaps twenty feet from Mercy Central’s Main Lobby.  Supposedly the bus driver would be along shortly for the long drive back to Orlando.  But Vincente had been left waiting for more than half an hour now.

The older man glumly watched faces come and go.  Cars and shuttles pulled up to the great glass doors, dropping off, picking up.  Families, lone adults, medical staff, they all hurried in or hurried out.  No-one spared a glance for the fat old man in the wheelchair.

Fighting impatience was not something Vincente did well.  Yet what choice did he have?  He had lost everything.  That idiot Rodrigo had been caught dealing morphine, and of course the former nurse had fingered Vincente.  Normally the older man’s clout would have shielded him.  But the scandalous sex rumors now swirling about him were too much to ignore, even for OrlandoHealth’s Board of Directors.  His pending divorce was the latest blow.

As the older man sighed, feeling sorry for himself, he spotted a beautiful face in the crowd.  His wounded heart leapt.

It was Mia!  Now dressed in the white uniform of a cafeteria worker, she was rushing across the street for the entrance.  Vincente’s breath caught; she was just as gorgeous and luscious as he remembered.

The teenager reached the pavement, about to dash into the hospital.  But she glanced in Vincente’s direction… and their eyes locked.  She stopped dead in her tracks.

Vincente straightened as much as he could.

Mia approached, her expression tight and her eyes narrowed.  When she reached the wheelchair, she grimaced, as if repulsed by something she’d found dead by the side of the road.  Her face twisted in anger.

Vincente swallowed, uncertain if he should say anything.

The beautiful teen looked about.  No-one was watching.

In a swift move, she turned her back on Vincente, pulling down her white pants and underwear.  The older man had just the briefest glance at her naked rear… before she sat squarely in his lap.

Vincente felt hot liquid spill onto his groin.  The stink of urine filled the air.

Jutting out her chin, Mia hopped up, yanking her pants back into position.

“Take care, _gilipollas_ ,” she said coldly, lightly slapping Vincente once on the cheek.

And then she was gone.

******


End file.
